


I'm No Angel (Rewrite)

by Bookkbaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9.03 Fix-It, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 07:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkbaby/pseuds/Bookkbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rewrite of 9.03 of Supernatural in which Cas pushed April away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm No Angel (Rewrite)

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I thought Cas was terribly OOC in the episode. So I fixed it.

> My rewrite of 9.03. Warning for brief, one-sided April/Cas (a kiss she initiates and he pulls back from)

April's hands were gentle on his arm as she cleaned the injury. It was nice, a kind of human warmth Cas hadn't gotten to experience since he'd Fallen.

He felt a pang in his chest at the thought. Grief for his lost Grace and the memory of other hands, strong hands, ones that gripped his shoulder in support or clapped him on the back in camaraderie. Even as an angel, Dean's touch had warmed him thoroughly and for a moment, he wished he was with the Winchesters instead of in an unfamiliar living room with a woman he barely knew.

"Thank you," he murmured as she finished tying off the bandage. It would do until he reached the bunker.

April smiled at him and ran her hand gently up his shoulder. Her nails scratched lightly along the back of his neck. He shivered and leaned back a little, suddenly feeling like they were far too close. When had April moved?

"Humanity isn't all bad," she said, still smiling sweetly. She leaned in and Cas froze, startled, as her lips touched his. The sensation was strange, not altogether unpleasant in and of itself, but the body leaning against his was too soft, too feminine, and Cas pulled away. April tried to follow, but he put a hand on her shoulder to hold her back.

"I'm sorry," he said, a frisson of fear going down his spine. Would she kick him out again, if he refused? But this... he did not owe her his body. She was a kind woman, yes, but- "I'm sorry."

April pulled back, expression flickering from something Cas couldn't name before it was gone, and then settled on upset.

"Oh," she said, sounding put out. "I thought... well, nevermind what I thought."

Cas looked away. April sighed and stood up, touching his shoulder again as she passed him on the way to her bedroom.

"If you change your mind..." She left the end of the sentence hanging, an open offer, and Cas nodded politely. "Goodnight, Clarence."

She walked to her bedroom and shut the door. Her words rang loud in the sudden quiet, reminding Cas of the time he'd spent as a patient in the hospital with Meg as his caretaker. She'd given him the same parting words every time she left and, just as he had then, he felt suddenly trapped by the four walls around him.

He laid down on the couch and curled up on himself. He was still dressed, though damp from the rain he could still hear hitting the window, and though he had no blanket or pillow (he understood now that

April had assumed they wouldn't be needed), the couch would be the most comfortable place he'd slept in weeks.

He would leave in the morning, but tonight it was still too wet and cold outside. At least here, there was warmth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He was warm, comfortable, and at peace for the first time in what felt like years. He couldn't see, but he could feel heat all around him, safe and familiar, and he burrowed into the solid weight of Dean's body.

Dean chuckled and brushed a lock of hair away from Cas's face. Dean's smile was pure tenderness and Cas felt joy explode along every nerve in his body. This was all he wanted, just to be this close to Dean, forever.

The moment stretched, pulled taut, and it didn't even matter that Cas couldn't move-

Why couldn't he move?

He tried to reach for Dean, but his hands did not obey him. The warmth was fading, the sound of Dean's blissful chuckles quieting until it was all just a dull roar in his ears.

Cas felt cold.

"Wake up."

Cas inhaled sharply and his eyes opened. The first thing he saw was April, standing in front of him with a cold, calculating expression. It struck him that he was oriented wrong; shouldn't he be seeing her sideways?

But no, he wasn't on the couch. He'd been moved to a chair and bound to it. He tugged at the ropes, but they didn't budge.

"Who are you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at April, or whoever had taken April's form. April smiled coldly and lifted a knife - an angel blade.

His own. His eyes widened.

"I'm who I have always been, at least since you've known me," she said. "And I have questions, Castiel. You  _will_  answer."

He clenched his jaw.

"Is that why you brought me here last night?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. April gave him a pitying glance.

"Do you think most women bring home strange men they find in alleyways late at night?" she asked. "I didn't think you'd fall for it, to be honest, but I couldn't just let you go. Not when it's your fault the angels have fallen."

Cas flinched at the reminder and cursed himself for his own ignorance. Daphne had taken him in, though he'd been wet and cold and had no idea who he was. She'd helped him, those six months, even posing as his wife to dissuade nosy neighbors from asking too many questions.

He'd been foolish to think he'd found another such as she.

"It's fortunate you're such a heavy sleeper. I never would have been able to take this otherwise," April said, twirling the blade in her hands. Cas glared at her.

"Is that why you desired intercourse?" he asked. April shrugged.

"You're more than a match for this vessel in hand-to-hand. I had to catch you off guard somehow, but you didn't fall for it," she said. She moved closer and leveled the sharp tip of the blade at Castiel's neck. "Now, you will tell me what happened with Metatron."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Everything was a blur after that, a mess of pain and guilt and then nothing but  _Dean_. Dean, waking him up, Dean telling him to never do that again, and Cas still felt some pain, but it was muted.

He was alive.

He was alive and he was  _home_.

The bunker was just as he remembered it, but somehow larger and warmer than he'd recalled. The food Dean gave him was plentiful and delicious and for the first time in what felt like years, Cas knew what it was like to have a full stomach. The food was warm, Cas was content, and he felt the safety of the bunker settle around him.

"So, Cas... what exactly happened?" Sam asked, sitting on the other side of the table. Cas was almost surprised that they'd left the question this long, but the drive back to the bunker had been mostly spent talking about what had happened with Dean and Sam since the Fall. Dean had been oddly quiet on the topic of Sam's recovery, but Cas had assumed the issue was still too raw to discuss. He understood; it still brought a lump of guilt to his throat when he thought of that night.

"I was making my way towards the bunker. I had to walk; it was too risky to accept rides from strangers. I didn't know who might be one of my siblings in disguise," Cas explained. He took another bite of his sandwich, relishing the taste. "I had my sword, still, so the few times I was found I was able to escape. I took a false name to better hide amongst the homeless."

"Clarence," Dean supplied. Cas nodded.

"April found me in an alley last night and offered me a place to stay." Cas looked down. "I shouldn't have accepted, but it was raining and I was so cold... I spent the night with her and woke up bound to the chair."

Dean choked on his coffee. Cas looked at him, puzzled, but Sam seemed to understand what was going on and alternated between giving Cas a stunned look and fixing his brother with sympathetic eyes.

"I hope you used protection," Dean said, looking anywhere but at Cas. Cas frowned.

"I had my angel blade," he reminded Dean. Dean choked again.

"That's not the, uh, 'protection' Dean's talking about," Sam said, smiling tightly. It dawned on Cas what Dean had meant.

"You're referring to condoms," Cas said, just to be sure. Dean nodded, still not looking at Cas. "I spent the night on her couch."

Dean looked at Cas then, surprised and, dare Cas think it... relieved? Then the expression was gone, but the silence remained.

"What did she want?" Sam asked. Cas tore his gaze away from Dean.

"She wanted to know what happened with Metatron," he said. Sam straightened up and Dean leaned forward.

"What did happen, Cas?" Dean asked gently. "You told me that Metatron used a spell?"

Cas nodded. He closed his eyes and lowered his sandwich.

"I was foolish. Metatron tricked me... Naomi was right, he wanted to cast the angels out of Heaven and he used my Grace to do it."

"Why your Grace, though?" Sam asked, looking confused. Cas glanced briefly at Dean, then away.

"I don't know," he lied. In hindsight, the ingredients were clear; all involved love connecting humans and angels. A Nephilim, Cupid's bow... and Castiel's Grace, which had been devoted to Dean since he first laid a hand on Dean's soul in Hell. Cas had so much less to offer now, as a human, but what little he possessed was still as devoted to Dean as his now-missing Grace had been.

In a way, it was reassuring to have that constant.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All in all, it lasted a few short hours.

_"You have to go."_

The words echoed in Cas's head, reverberating off his eardrums and getting louder and louder until the sound drowned out even his heartbeat and his footsteps on the asphalt.

He understood why he had to leave. His presence was dangerous for the Winchesters and he couldn't protect them now. He had nothing to offer except himself, and of course that wasn't enough.

His enemies were his own, not things he should risk bringing to Dean and Sam's door.

He shouldn't be surprised.

He knew how far Dean would go to protect his family.

He  _shouldn't be_  surprised.

After everything he'd done, all the pain he'd caused and the destruction that followed in his footsteps... it was natural that Dean would tell him to leave.

Cas wasn't family.

He had no family.

And it was all his fault.

Cas drew his hood up over his head and turned his face to the ground. He stuck his hands in his pockets and kept walking alongside the road.

The direction didn't matter to him, not now that he had no destination.

The food he'd eaten in the bunker felt like lead in his stomach.

"Goodbye, Dean," he murmured quietly to himself. He couldn't bring himself to turn around and see the door of the bunker disappear between the trees. if he did, he knew he'd never be able to bring himself to leave.

Had he looked back, he might have noticed a bow-legged figure watching from the steps, green eyes wet and hands clenched into fists at his sides.

 


End file.
